In Love with Easeful Death
by hiddlesherethereeverywhere
Summary: Adam hates when Ian drags him out but tonight he meets an interesting woman and the evening takes a strange turn. Adam x Nameless OFC
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** In Love with Easeful Death

**One-shot**

**Summary: Adam hates it when Ian drags him out of the house but this time he meets an interesting woman that makes the night worthwhile. **

**Character:** Adam and nameless OFC

**Genre:** Smut

**Rating:** Mature. NSFW. For fingering, sex, blood/vampire feeding, language

**A/N: This is my favorite thing I've ever written. Adam's mind is beautiful. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing. Feedback is always appreciated. PS: Adam is dead so he doesn't worry about protection. You're alive which means you can get pregnant/STD's. Cover that shit up! **

"Ian, no one gets coffee at three in the morning." Adam's voice is low and uninterested. He's not sure why he allowed Ian to drag him out tonight. The club had been loud and not in the good way. His ears were still ringing from whatever noise was playing over the speakers. It certainly couldn't be called music. It sounded like someone banging on a garbage dumpster. In fact, one of the band members had been playing a metal trash can with drum sticks, Adam recalled.

Ian shrugged. "Come on, man. I need a caffeine fix or I'll never make it home." Ian motioned him inside a hole-in-the-wall, twenty-four-hour diner. It used to be nothing more than a dark alley way. Adam remembered but he doubted anyone else did. The interior was harshly lit with fluorescent lighting. He was glad for the protection his dark glasses provided. Smoking in public businesses had been banned in Detroit for years, but Adam still detected the acrid scent of stale smoke underneath the fumes of grease and burnt food. It was both familiar and comfortable.

Ian slid into a worn corner booth and Adam took the seat across from him. The tabletop sported a variety of nicks and discolorations. He absently ran his finger over a crack and wondered how long it had been there and how it came to exist in the first place.

Ian talked about nothing as he was want to do. Adam slumped down low in the seat and let Ian's words fall over him apathetically.

"Hey, man, you gettin' anything?" Ian asked a moment later.

Adam noticed the waitress out of the corner of his eye. He sighed and stopped fingering the marks on the table. "Coffee. Black." He wouldn't drink it but he liked to watch the steam coil up from the liquid. It reminded him of smoke stacks and steam engines and change. The waitress walked away. Ian was talking again.

When she returned with their coffee, she sat Ian's down first and followed with his. Adam stared at the thin curve of her wrist. His gaze traced the blue veins beneath her skin and he imagined the blood coursing through them. He turned his head in her direction to nod his thanks, but the gesture was lost when he saw her face.

Though she was beautiful, it wasn't her beauty that caught his attention; it was her eyes. They were the color of the sky before dawn breaks, rich iridescent blue fading to soft amber before the dark of her pupils. They shone with wisdom yet still managed to be inquisitive and innocent. If they had been a story, he'd want to read it.

She was staring at him now and it twisted his stomach into knots. Never outside of Eve had he felt the sensation. Her brow furrowed and she regarded him curiously. Her full lips parted once, twice, as if she had something to say but didn't know how. Ian was talking to her but she didn't notice. Her hands reached out and gently took off Adam's glasses. He could have stopped her but he didn't. She searched his eyes which he knew were red-rimmed and disconcerting. Even so, she never looked away.

Finally, she spoke."Darkling I listen; and, for a time I have been half in love with easeful Death." Her voice was like a fine aged vintage, rich and deep; the perfect complement to the poem's haunting rhythm. Keats. How he loved Keats.

"Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme, to take into the air my quiet breath," Adam replied before even realizing. A corner of her mouth lifted. It wasn't so much a smile as a gesture of knowing.

And even through all this, Ian was talking. Adam finally held up a hand in Ian's direction though he never broke eye contact with the waitress. "Ian, shut the fuck up," he muttered.

Adam pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and threw it on the table. He didn't count it. It could have been a thousand dollars for all he cared. "Coffee's on me," he said. "Find your own way home."

Adam unfolded himself from the booth onto long legs. He towered over the waitress. She barely rose to chest level. He lifted a glove covered hand to encircle her arm just above the elbow. "Come with me," he murmured, and she did, without question. He didn't spare Ian so much as a glance before leading her out of the restaurant and into the night.

Though still technically summer, the chill of approaching autumn permeated the warm air. Adam had no idea what he was doing with this woman. He wanted to sit and stare into her mysterious eyes for hours, to dance with her, to fuck her, to drink her, to play music for her. Eve would have told him this is what it felt like to live in the moment, something that had always come so easily for her though not so much for him. The whole idea made him dizzy.

They approached his car and Adam opened the passenger side door for her. As she was about to climb in, he lifted his arm to stop her. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow curiously. "Why Keats?" he asked. He had to know.

He could see her mind working through her eyes. He liked that about her. She lifted a hand to his chest. His heartbeat should have been there but it wasn't. It hadn't been for a long, long time.

"Because you look like poetry sounds," she whispered.

It was the strangest and most beautiful compliment he'd ever received. His leather clad hands grabbed for her then, bringing her close. He pressed his lips to hers. She met him eagerly, wrapping her arms around his strong neck and leaning into him. He could feel her breath through the rhythm of their kiss, caressing his cold, dead skin. She was so alive and for the first time in many years, he yearned for some of that life. He became painfully aware of her pounding heartbeat. His covered hand rose to her neck; beneath the fabric he could feel her quickening pulse.

Adam groaned through the kiss as he realized this was bad idea. He pushed her away then, harder than he intended. She wasn't taken aback. She stared at him with those fucking incredible eyes. Part of him wanted to gouge them out. They were testing his limits, lowering his inhibitions, reminding him of things long forgotten that needed to stay gone.

"I know what you are," she said.

He scoffed and turned away from her, heading to his side of the car. "Yeah? Well, it's not hard to figure out. Jaded musician? Suicidal romantic? Fucking asshole? Pick one. Pick them all." He was done.

"Your skin is cold," she said. "Your eyes are dead." Adam looked up at her from across the top of the car. The yellow beams of the streetlamps blazed down on her like a spotlight, as if she were reciting the opening monologue for a theater production. She continued, "No breath. No heartbeat." Her tongue darted out across her bottom lip. "You taste like blood."

Fuck, Eve would love this girl. There was no sense in arguing. "Get in."

They drove in silence and it felt oddly comfortable. Every once in awhile, Adam would glance over to find her staring straight ahead. He examined her profile and wondered about her though he never asked any questions. He didn't want to know anything; not her name, not how she knew what he was, nothing.

Soon, Adam maneuvered the car into an overgrown driveway out in the suburbs. The yard was knee-level and higher in some spots. The building was in disrepair and looked abandoned from the street. Adam pulled the vehicle up behind the house where it would be obscured by growth and debris. He got out and didn't bother to help her. He knew she would follow.

He walked around to the front of the house and opened the door leading her inside. She took a moment to examine the room. It was filled to the brim with books, antiques, various odds and ends, all covered in a thick layer of dust. Then, her stare fell on the side of the room that housed a variety of his instruments. "Will you play for me?"

"Yes." Adam stood among his instruments. They were more alive than he was. He regarded his guest for a moment and thought about her in terms of music. Looking at her was like trying to grasp the melody of a song he could barely remember. For that reason, the violin called to him. He picked it up, handling it with the kind of care a parent shows to an infant child. He positioned the beautifully crafted instrument against his shoulder, lifted his chin high, and drew the bow across the strings. His long, slender fingers manipulated the notes. Music poured from him, simultaneously haunting and playful.

The waitress stared at him, entranced. She walked closer, stopping in front of him. Her lithe body swayed to the rhythm. She reached around to her back and untied the apron around her waist. It fell at her feet. Her hands were at the buttons of her uniform shirt, undoing each one in time with the music. Adam continued to play but his gaze was on her. He drew the bow and moved his fingers to produce a perfect high note just as she shrugged the top away to reveal her gorgeous breasts.

Adam dropped the violin. It fell to the floor with a dissonant _clang_. He dropped the needle onto the nearby record player and a symphony of baroque sound filled the room. He rushed to her and pulled her close, his leather gloves slid the length of her naked back. Her hands fingered the edge of his wrinkled t-shirt. She tugged it up and over his head. Her gaze hungrily examined his lean torso, lingering on the 'V' disappearing into his jeans. She grabbed his hands. "May I?" she asked.

Adam nodded and watched her remove the gloves. It shouldn't have been erotic, but it was. She tossed them to the floor before bringing his hands up to her breasts. Goosebumps rose to her flesh as his icy fingertips brushed against her nipples. They swelled under his touch and he forced back a moan. His existence was a lonely one when Eve was gone. He craved closeness but never acted on it, afraid of what he was capable of during the throes of passion. With Eve, he never had to worry about letting his true nature show.

"Do I scare you?" he asked, curiously. He continued to explore her breasts. He could feel his arousal growing. It was getting harder to stay in control.

"Not as much as I scare you, it seems," she responded. An uncharacteristic smile brightened his melancholy features though only for a second. She was perceptive, this one.

Her hands were at his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping his fly. She let her fingers lightly brush over his growing erection as she pulled them down. Adam sucked a breath through his teeth and swallowed hard. Before she could reveal him, he grabbed her wrist in a motion to stop. "I have loved deeply," he said. "More deeply than you will ever be able to understand in your lifetime. I am half of another and I cannot and never will be whole without her."

"That's not what I want."

"What do you want?" Adam asked.

She wrenched her wrist away from him grasp and removed his engorged cock. Already she was stroking his length. Her hand was so warm. Adam's resolve weakened. He had her pants down in no time and then he picked her up, moving them to the dusty, vintage couch. Adam sat first and she arranged herself to straddle his lap. Heat radiated from between her legs. He could feel it on his thighs where she sat. Her mouth was back on his this time more urgently. Her tongue pushed eagerly between his lips, searching for his. Her hand was back on his cock, stroking slowly in time to the music and their kissing.

Adam didn't notice when his fangs descended. She drew away from the kiss and when Adam opened his eyes, a thin line of blood trickled down her lip. She made no move to wipe it away. She wasn't scared, in fact, her eyes were ravenous. Adam's hands tangled in her hair and pulled her face back to his. His tongue lapped from her chin up to her bitten lip. When he got there, he sucked the wound hungrily, letting the metallic tang linger in his mouth before swallowing hard. Even with such a small amount, he immediately felt the effects. It was an odd sensation of satisfaction yet wanting to feast to bursting.

"Fuck..." he moaned. "You taste incredible." His erection throbbed with need.

She was panting heavily. She moved her hair over to one shoulder and placed her neck in front of his face. "Then don't stop."

Adam moaned long and loud. He knew this was a terrible idea but the line of her neck mesmerized him like a siren's song. He brought his lips down, tentatively at first. He inhaled her scent. She smelled of fading floral perfume and stale cigarettes with notes of coffee and lemon-scented cleaner. He wanted to remember it for when the nights were cold and lonely, for when the sun rose and he had to sleep another day away without Eve by his side.

Adam lifted his hand up between her legs. He cupped her cunt and relished the damp heat against his palm. She shivered under his touch. His mouth descended upon his chosen spot. He could feel the _thud thud thud_ of her pulse against his lips. He drew his fangs lightly across the sensitive skin there. She moaned quietly.

He bit down slowly without breaking the skin. At the same time, he slid his fingers into her slick folds. _Fuck_, she was wet. She ground her hips against his hand, breathing heavily. "Ready?" He asked, against her hot skin. She nodded and he allowed his fangs to sink into her. She gasped but didn't yell out. Adam used his free arm to brace her body against his. As her thick blood pooled into his mouth, he trust two fingers up inside her, pumping them in and out of her. He'd forgotten that sex could be like this, _taste_ like this.

As soon as he swallowed, his body coursed with pleasure. Adam kept his fingers in her cunt, while moving his thumb to her swollen clit. She immediately cried out. He massaged slowly. Her wetness increased, dripping down his long fingers that pushed in and out. He lifted his fangs from her skin. He nursed her wounds with his mouth and tongue, lapping at the excess liquid, sucking more from inside her. She moaned wildly. He put more pressure on her clit, rubbed faster, pushed as far into her as he could manage. All the while, her sweet blood flowed out of her living veins and into his eager mouth. She came a moment later. Her walls clenched around his fingers; her body quivered against him.

Everything inside him wanted to keep feeding but he knew he couldn't. He pulled away, removed his digits from inside her. His eyes went to his straining cock. Adam couldn't recall a time he had been so hard. She followed his line of sight before lifting herself up and then down onto his length. He slid into her wetness with ease. Her walls were still pulsing from her orgasm and it felt amazing against him. She rode him furiously, using his shoulders as leverage. She stared down at him. Her eyes looked like dawn newly broken through a night sky, more amber than blue now with specks of sparkling gold. Her mouth crashed down on his. She could taste her blood on his lips.

Adam pulled away a second later. He lifted his hips up, thrusting deep into her core as she rode him. His hand went to her neck. His forefinger traced the blood trickling down from his fang marks. He brought the digit to his mouth and sucked it dry. The flavor of her juices mingled with the metallic taste of blood and drove him mad. He lost himself in the music, in the aftertaste, in the scent of her. Adam punctuated another hard thrust with a grunt as his cock convulsed inside her. His head lolled back against the couch; his eyes squinted shut; his mouth opened wide and he emitted a long, satisfied groan. His pulsating erection sent her back into oblivion. Her body tensed and when her muscles contracted, her cunt clenched tightly around his cock. Adam came with the taste of blood in his mouth and he hadn't felt this contented in a long, long time.

After he'd lifted her off of him, he sat for a long time, staring off into space. God, he missed Eve. He missed blood, _fresh_ blood and sex. He missed heartbeats and ejaculating and breathing. Already, melancholy was settling back over him.

She was staring at him with those eyes that started this madness. "What?" Adam asked.

"Turn me," she said, as if it were as mediocre a subject as the weather.

On another day, maybe he would have. What did he care if she wanted to live forever in this fucking miserable, uninspired world? But for a brief moment he had remembered what it had been like to be alive and it was her doing. He imagined the life draining from her sunrise eyes; he imagined dawn never breaking again in them, instead cast into eternal midnight. No; death was a curse and it did not suit her.

"Thou was not born for death, immortal Bird," Adam recited. Keats always knew what to say. "Now get the fuck out."


	2. Chapter 2

Adam hadn't slept in days.

He couldn't stop thinking about her, about those eyes that reminded him of the last sunrise he ever saw, centuries ago, from atop a cliff in a town that no longer existed. Sometimes, if he closed his eyes and focused, he could still taste her blood, thick and laced with nicotine, on his tongue. Fuck. How could he let this happen?

That night, Ian showed up on his porch for the third time this week. He asked about her the last time Adam answered and he slammed the door in the younger man's face. He didn't want to talk about her. He didn't even want to _think_ about her, all warmth and fucking poetry and music. Fuck her. But even telling her to fuck off in his mind made him just want to fuck her again. To taste her. God, she had tasted exquisite.

Tonight, Adam finally relented. He opened the door to find Ian standing there. He was about to say something but Adam interrupted immediately. "Coffee. Now."

Ian's face lit in a boyish grin. "Sure, man. Coffee. Whatever you want. I'm just happy to see you."

Adam drove. Ian talked about everything and nothing and Adam completely ignored him which Ian didn't seem to mind at all. They pulled up alongside the diner and Adam took a deep breath. If he'd had a heartbeat, it would have been pounding but instead his insides just ached.

"I can't blame you. She was," Ian made a low whistling sound, "damn, she was hot."

Adam lunged across to the passenger side and roughly grabbed Ian by the throat. His fingers dug into the man's flesh. Ian's pulse quickened under his fingertips and his eyes were wide with fear and confusion. "Talk about her again," Adam growled, "And I will rip your heart out through your throat."

Ian raised his hands in surrender and Adam let go. "Sorry. I'm sorry. You're right. I'll stop. Seriously though, man, that was metal as fuck. Have you ever considered doing metal?"

Adam groaned and leaned back in his seat. He stared down at his pale, veinless hands. He hadn't even bothered to put gloves on. What was the point? He exited the car. A light drizzle fell. The rain reminded him of Eve. Her face always lit up and she would spin and dance beneath the drops. He asked her why once and she said, "Feel it, love. It breathes the life back into you." He scoffed at her. He hadn't understood, not then. He wished he still hadn't.

He paused outside the diner. He could see her through the glass door, moving among the patrons. Ian headed inside, rubbing at the marks on his throat, but Adam wasn't ready, not yet. He knew, as soon as he went through the door, everything would change. Right now, she was still a nameless zombie and he could keep it that way. All he had to do was resist the temptation. Walk away. Just fucking walk away.

She felt his stare and looked up. Their gazes met and Adam's stomach lurched. They stared at each other motionless, silently challenging the other to make a move. The rain came down harder, dampening Adam's black hair, matting it against his face. The drops pattered rhythmically on the pavement creating a soundtrack to their standoff.

And then she was coming and his opportunity to leave came and went. She exited the diner out into the rain and stopped in front of him. She looked up at him silently. Droplets glistened on her skin in the lamp light.

She was the first to break the silence. "I thought I'd never—"

Adam brought a long finger to rest over her full lips. "Don't."

She quieted and he just stood there watching the light play with the amber flecks in her eyes. They conjured memories of candlelight from days long ago, back before the world went to shit. His lips were on hers before he could talk himself out of it. He fucking missed her and he hated that he did.

One arm encircled her waist, pressing her flush against him. The other tangled in her hair and cradled her head. His tongue pushed through her lips and found hers. Her mouth tasted of coffee and cigarettes and was equally addictive. Her arms wrapped about his neck and Adam felt hungry, desperate, as if her kisses were laden with blood. Adam was torn in two, consumed by passion yet halted by experience, fully aware that living where life and death were one in the same brings an inconsolable loneliness.

He tore himself off her lips. He grabbed her hard by the arms and jerked her close. "Why?" He demanded.

"Why? Isn't it obvious?" She called over the noise of the rain. She wiggled from his grip and took a step back. Her arms opened wide and her head dipped backwards. Rain splattered on her cheeks, turning them rosy from the cold. She opened her mouth and drank it in, licking the moisture from her lips. "Everything I love is endless. Poetry is immortal and when I have read it all there will be more. The seasons will cycle on a beautiful, infinite loop. History will be made and remade. And the rain. God, the rain will always come again, breathing new life into everything." She spun and kicked up water from the puddle beneath her feet. And in her movements, for a fleeting moment, Adam saw Eve dancing there instead.

Adam rushed to her, pulling her into a soggy embrace before grasping her arm and leading her towards the dark alleyway adjacent to the diner. Unceremoniously, he slammed her against the brick building. He yearned for Eve and her as if they were one. He tore at her wet clothes and she did the same with his. Hot breath fogged from her nostrils and mouth creating ghostly shapes in the newly-turned autumn air. Goosebumps rose on her bare flesh. He ran his hands all over her, trying to feel them all beneath his palms, fascinated by the skin's ability to react to the elements. Her nipples were already taut, whether from his caresses or the cold, he did not know or care. His fingertips ghosted over them, ripping a gasp from her lips. Her hands ran the length of his bare torso, slick with rainwater, and stopped to undo his fly. She reached in and removed his rigid length. Adam couldn't help himself as his fangs descended at the will of her touch.

"Do it," she urged. And he did. He bit her neck without the hesitance of their last encounter. Her blood was sweeter than he remembered and mixed with the refreshing taste of fallen rain. He resisted the urge to gulp it down instead letting it settle on his tongue, relishing in the flavor of her, needing to remember every delicate undertone. It parched a thirst he didn't even know he had.

All the while she stroked his cock, up and down, letting her fingers trail over the sensitive head, running her touch slowly along the underside. Adam played with her swollen nipple while he drank, pinching it, rolling it between thumb and forefinger, letting it drag across the inside of his palm.

"Fuck me while you feed," she moaned. He broke away from her neck to reach down and pull her legs around him. She guided his stiff cock inside her. He groaned loudly as he slid into her warm wetness. His mouth went for her neck but halfway there, he stopped, captivated by the sight of her. The rain had matted her hair across her face and dripped down her shoulders, chest, and breasts. The glow of the city lights turned her skin luminescent gold. Her beautiful lips parted to accommodate her ragged breathing. Her chest rose and fell in time with his thrusts. She was living, breathing art.

"Please," she begged, her voice almost lost in the din of the storm. "Give me to eternity."

Adam rammed into her, knocking her back against the wall until it stole the breath from her. He hated her then, hated how good she felt, how good she tasted, but most of all how much he wanted it. Wanted _her_. He released a savage cry, a mix of animalistic rage and unbridled passion. Her inner walls tensed around his cock to signal her undoing. His lower stomach tightened at the sensation.

She dug her nails into the skin of his shoulders, and clenched her legs tighter around his midsection. Her body trembled as Adam's thrusting became more desperate. He pushed as deep as he could, right down to her core, making her cry out wildly. "Now!" She screamed as she came. His fangs went back to her neck, digging farther into her flesh. He drank deeply, urgently, drunk on her taste and her warmth.

Still inside her, Adam pulled her away from the wall and down onto the concrete. Her hair fanned out around her as running groundwater pulled it in a thousand directions at once. Her heart pounded against him, so hard that he pretended it was his own, beating strongly in his chest and it felt like living; for one brief, glorious second he was_ living_. He forced himself away long enough to kiss her, painting the inside of her mouth with his blood-drenched tongue. When he pulled away, he murmured against her lips, "A gift, for when you wake," before returning to her neck.

He grabbed her wrist, placing his thumb over her weakening pulse. He bucked his hips against hers and fed. His appetite for her was ravenous. His cock shuddered and one more hard thrust had him coming just as her pulse faded. And then stopped. He lapped at the last few drops, tasting with it the saltiness of her skin and the rain. He savored it, wishing it would never end, that somehow in death she would become an endlessly flowing fountain that belonged to him and only to him. But it was done. His erection softened inside her.

Adam sighed and propped himself up to inspect her. The color drained from her skin, leaving her as pale as white porcelain. Her own bright red blood stained her beautiful lips. And her eyes. They were more dusk than dawn, darker yet somehow brighter as if reflecting the last rays of sun before twilight. How it was possible that in death she was even more captivating, he didn't know. As much as he hated to admit it, he had been wrong. Death _did_ suit her.

He wanted to leave her there, in permanent death, rather than lead her into the nightmare of living death. It was easier for both of them. He started to get up but found himself already hard again inside her. "Bloody fucking hell," he cursed. He had already made his choice and it wasn't the right one.

It was time. Still straddling her, still feeling the fading warmth of her cunt on his hardening length, Adam bit his own wrist and winced as two puncture marks oozed with a viscous substance. It wasn't blood, not really. It was thicker and almost black like tar. Eve liked to call it their _essence_ but that was too fucking pretentious for Adam to use. Whatever it was called, he parted her lips and let it seep into her mouth.

Suddenly, her eyes ignited, burning bright orange like the business end of a cigarette. If Adam could breathe, his breath would have caught in his throat. He'd never seen eyes the color of fire until now. She coughed violently, her body convulsing underneath him. Slowly, recognition found her. Her tongue darted out to lick her blood, the last remaining bit of her humanity, from her lips. Her wild eyes, full of ember and ash, gave her an animal-like appearance. Adam's erection jerked inside her. Fuck, if she wasn't even more attractive now.

A savage growl tore from her throat. She lifted up enough to wrap her arms around Adam and fling him to the wet pavement. She mounted him; his length slid into her slick opening. She pushed on his shoulders for leverage, riding his rigid cock. His hands instinctively went to her hips, urging her to go harder, faster. Her tongue was on her lips again, searching for any sign of missed blood and it was the most erotic thing Adam had ever witnessed. She came down and attacked his mouth with hers. Her tongue explored his mouth, lapping up whatever blood she could find there. Her swollen tits slid up and down his wet torso with her every movement. He moaned loudly and felt the familiar pulsing in his lower stomach, the telltale tightening of his cock. Her inner muscles contracted against him and they both came simultaneously while the rain continued to pour.

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, across a hundred lifetimes, Adam remembered fucking Eve the night she turned him. He'd never been so ravenous, so afraid, so excited, so _alive_. All of it was there, in the waitress's burning gaze. "One day you'll remember this night and you will hate me," he promised.

She lifted off of him and stood. Her head angled towards the sky. Somewhere, stars hid behind storm clouds, light pollution and smog. She stared like she could see them anyway. "Maybe. Perhaps an eternity from now," she said.

"A day. A year. A fucking eternity. It's all the same."

She wasn't listening, instead marveling at the prospect of eternity, breaking it down into the number of dances, the pages of a book, the lines of a poem, the notes of a song.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Adam muttered. He found their drenched, wrinkled clothing and replaced his. His shirt alone was soaked with twenty pounds of water and his mood reflected it. "Hey, get with the fucking program," he called to her, annoyed.

When she looked his way, Adam tossed her the items and she put them on. She looked like a rag doll in her saturated uniform, vulnerable and tired. A pang of pity leapt through Adam's stomach but he shrugged it off. She'd brought this on herself and soon enough she'd realize her mistake.

"Do you have a name?" Adam asked irritably, as they rounded the corner towards his car and the diner.

"Delilah."

"Delilah." He repeated, flatly. From the book of Judges, the woman whom Samson loved; the woman who inevitably caused his downfall. "Of course it is. Fucking perfect."

"What now?" She asked.

"You meet Eve." And Adam knew that Eve would love her. What the fuck had he done?

Ian met them at the door. His brows knit together with concern. "Oh shit, are you guys alright? Did you get mugged or something?" Ian asked.

Adam brought his fingers up to his lips. When he looked at them, rain splattered against blood, sending red trails down his hand.

" Bloody nose," Adam said.

Ian smiled wide and nodded. "Oh okay, good. I mean, not good but better than something worse, I guess right?" Ian's gaze found Delilah and his eyes went wider. "And uh, her too?"

Adam's stare flicked to Delilah who looked in much worse shape, blood smeared across her colorless face. She licked her lips, staring at Ian as if he were a delicacy. "Just get in the fucking car," Adam finally growled at Ian, getting more aggravated by the second.

Ian nodded and hurried away. Adam grabbed Delilah roughly by the upper arm. "Behave. Or I'll fucking stake you myself, understand?" She nodded her consent but her fiery eyes were still predatory.

"God, this is a fucking nightmare," he grumbled, pushing her towards the car.


	3. Chapter 3

Adam stared unblinking at the dusty antique television. Distorted shapes danced in the gray static. He wished the noise from the bad reception did more to distract him. All at once the static dissipated and Eve appeared on the screen.

And though everything had gone to shit in the past few days, he couldn't help but smile. "Ah, there you are," he said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"And there you are," she replied, mirroring his smile. She was dressed simply in a purple and gold kaftan. Her white blonde hair hung loosely about her thin shoulders. Her eyes were the color of late summer midnight, sparkling with the light of a thousand stars. Adam could stare at her for eternity. You would think after thousands of years, her beauty would have become tiresome. But it hadn't and he doubted it ever would. Why hadn't it been enough? Why?

"Darling, why so glum?" Eve asked, leaning her face closer to the screen, her brows low with concern.

"Fuck," Adam cursed. He absently pushed a hand through his untamed black hair and dropped his eyes to the floor. How the hell to even begin?

"A girl," Eve said, intrigued. It wasn't a question. She knew him too fucking well. Adam brought his gaze back to her. She was staring expectantly. The light in her eyes intensified. "Bring her to me," Eve urged, barely able to contain her growing excitement.

"It's more complicated than that," Adam admitted. Eve gaped at him. "Adam. Is she...did you…?"

"Yes," he interrupted, not wanting to hear her say it.

The past hundred years or so, Eve had been pushing him especially hard to produce a progeny. Put simply, their race was dying one, soon to be extinct completely if their ranks weren't replenished. It wouldn't take much. Just a few new turns every couple hundred years. Adam had been Eve's chosen progeny. She was bonded to him, unable to produce another unless he died. By the time Adam had matured enough to make one of his own, he was too jaded. He started hating what he was and refused to bring anyone else into this nightmare.

Until Delilah. Fucking Delilah.

Eve clapped her hands with glee, beaming. She had always been content to wear her emotions on her sleeve and Adam had never seen her so happy. His insides clenched. Were he alive, with a full stomach, he might have retched. Everything was going to change. Where it had been Adam and Eve, now it would be Delilah, Adam, and Eve. He couldn't even fathom the dynamic.

"Adam, please. I can't bear it any longer. Show her to me!" Eve begged, adjusting her camera to get a better view of the room.

"Fine," he grumbled. He unfolded himself on to long legs and left the room. When he returned, he was pulling Delilah along roughly by the wrist. In the time Adam had been speaking with Eve, Delilah had cleaned herself up. Her hair was still damp from the shower. Her face and neck were no longer smeared with the blood and dirt left in the aftermath of their fucking. And she was beautiful. Fucking hell, she was beautiful. Adam wanted to scream at her and kill her and fuck her all at once.

A gasp came from the antique television. Eve pressed a delicate hand against her mouth, her eyes wide and surprised. Adam all but threw Delilah to the sunken couch. He didn't sit next to her, knowing if he did he would be intoxicated by her scent. And if she looked at him with those eyes, fuck, he'd be powerless. Instead, he paced the open space of what would have been the dining room had it not been filled to bursting with artifacts, antiques, and aging books.

"Oh Adam…" Eve marveled. She moved closer and traced her fingertips against the screen, as if she could reach out and touch the girl. "She's exquisite." The same word Adam had used to describe her what seemed like an eternity ago.

Delilah careened forward to inspect Eve. Her eyes traced the contours of Eve's regal face before sliding down her neck and eventually to her chest. "Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire-region'd star, or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky, fairer than these…" Delilah murmured religiously, completely in awe of the older woman.

Eve's bottom lip quivered, as if she might cry. "And she knows Keats. Blessed child."

Adam's mood continued to deteriorate. He scoffed. "It gets old." But he was lying. A millennium could pass and still he'd quiver at this magnificent creature reciting poetry.

Eve shifted her attention from Delilah to Adam. "Please, love, come sit. I want to see your face."

Adam wanted to say no but acquiesced nonetheless. He sat down next to Delilah. The white robe she wore separated at the top of her thighs, leaving them exposed and so deliciously accessible. His eyes slid higher. His mind begged him to stop but his arousal had already grown past the point of good decision making. The garment was cinched loosely around her waist and gaped away from her chest, leaving her right breast almost completely bare.

Adam dug his long fingers into the cushion. If he didn't, he would grab for her; he could barely control himself. What the fuck was it about her?

"Adam…?" From somewhere far away, Eve's voice broke the spell. His head snapped back to look at her. Eve's eyes were thoughtful. "It seems you're a bit distracted, hmm?"

Adam regarded Eve suspiciously. He didn't trust the mischief in her tone. It was a tone she used only when she had especially terrible ideas like that time she suggested backpacking through Western Europe or that time she bought a coffin to sleep in so she could see what that Dracula shit was all about. Fuck, but if he didn't love her free spirit.

"Go on, love. I want to watch," Eve finally said. From the look in her eye, there was no question as to her meaning.

Adam's eyes widened. Suddenly, the dull ache of his arousal ignited into something he could barely contain. "Eve, you don't know what you're asking," he said. Delilah had inched closed to him. Their thighs were touching. He simultaneously wanted to shove her away and grab for her. He was dizzy.

"Adam, I'm three thousand years old. I know what I want. And I'm not afraid to ask for it," Eve said, a smirk lifting a corner of her lips.

"Eve…" His voice was more halfhearted than he intended. He sifted through a thousand reasons not to do this but none of them came readily to his lips. His cock was already hard, eager.

On the screen, Eve stood and dragged the chair back. She stopped in front of it and untied the belt of her kaftan, letting it fall from her shoulders in one smooth, elegant motion. She stood nude, displaying the curves that Adam had seen, caressed, kissed, a million times during their lives together. And for all that time, he was still rendered speechless by her beauty and by how much he loved her. At his side, Delilah let a small moan. It seemed he was not the only one affected by Eve's radiance.

Eve sat down in the chair and leaned back. With languid, alluring slowness, she spread her legs wide. "Now does it look like I know what I'm asking?" She asked, while tracing her hands along her stomach and up over her breasts. She never broke eye contact and it was driving him mad with lust.

Delilah's hand was resting on his thigh now. She moved it slowly, so slowly it hurt, until it was nearly touching his length. He moaned in spite of himself and hated that he did, hated that he wanted this as badly as they did. Delilah leaned forward enough that the robe fell completely away from her breast.

"Fuck!" Adam snarled. There was no use fighting. He was immobilized by them. Eve had always held a power over him and now with Delilah, he would surely drown in their allure. He bounded to his feet. He grabbed a fistful of Delilah's wet hair and pulled her down to her knees in front of him. He hoped it hurt. Hoped it hurt like his insides hurt ever since she'd came into his godforsaken life.

Adam ripped down his pants. His rigid cock sprang free from its prison. He heard both Eve and Delilah moan simultaneously and it was so damn erotic he wanted to scream. Delilah had him in her mouth instantly. She cupped his ass and urged him to move, angling him parallel to the television so Eve could watch. God, Eve. He turned to see his wife and his mouth went agape. Eve's hand was between her legs, rubbing herself furiously as she watched with wide, unblinking eyes. Her other one had a taut nipple between its fingers, pinching tightly. His cock jerked at the sight. It brushed against the top of Delilah's mouth. Fuck, he'd almost forgotten about her, almost lost himself in Eve's primal beauty as she satiated her own need. But fuck, Delilah's mouth.

Adam was suddenly torn and it felt like an omen; where should he look? In one glance, Delilah's head bobbed up and down. The tip of her tongue placed pinpoint pressure against the underside of his cock and his legs went numb. She took his entire length until his tip brushed against the back of her throat making him moan outloud. In the next glance there was Eve, squirming on the chair, fucking herself, crying out with abandon. It should have felt prophetic but the symbolism was lost on his overstimulated mind. His head turned this way and that, hungrily, selfishly; he wanted them both.

Adam was close and Delilah knew it. She sped up. She removed her hands from his ass. One went to his cock, pleasuring him in tandem with her mouth, pumping up and down. The other pushed between her own legs, satisfying the throbbing need in her aching cunt. Unconsciously, Adam thrust his pelvis forward, so hard that if she could breathe he would have knocked the wind from her. In the hazy, oversexed recesses of his mind he wished she were still alive so he could choke her with his cock. And then she looked up at him. Her eyes were magma and hellfire and the unheard confessions of a thousand unredeemed sinners.

Adam fought the urge to come. He bit his bottom lip so hard it broke the skin. He forced himself to look away from Delilah's spellbinding, scorching gaze. His hand twisted in her hair again and he pulled her off him with a loud, wet _pop_. His cock ached for her mouth immediately but he couldn't lose himself in her. It would be too easy and too unfair to Eve. He brought up a booted foot and kicked the coffee table out of the way. Glassware plummeted, shattering as it hit the hardwood floor.

Adam pulled Delilah to the floor in front of the television and ripped the now completely open robe from her body. She got down on all fours, facing Eve, and Adam forced into her from behind. He rammed into Delilah but focused his attention on his wife. "Come for me," he growled, but didn't know if he was talking to Eve or Delilah or both and he hated himself for not knowing.

Eve gripped the side of the chair. Her legs went rigid. Her eyes were open but faraway. A scream tore from her lips before her body convulsed, signaling her release. She shook and then reclined heavily against the chair, spent. It was what he wanted, to see Eve come before he or Delilah could. With his wife finished, he thrust harder, faster into Delilah. He brought a hand around front and pushed a finger against her clit. He rubbed fast and hard, knowing she had to be close. Her walls clenched against him almost instantly, adding resistance. The sensation caused his cock to jerk inside her.

Just when Adam thought she would give in to her impending release, Delilah pulled away. Before he knew what was happening, she had him pinned below her. She mounted him, her hands pressed down against his shoulders as she rode him. Her firelight eyes bore holes into him, as if she could see through him, as if she could see the very hold she had on him. It occurred to him that Delilah was the burning star in Eve's dark midnight. Where the fuck did he fit in? He scolded himself for waxing poetic even as his cock was buried to the hilt in a beautiful girl.

Adam gave in. Fuck, as if he had a choice. He relaxed and let his orgasm claim him. His cock shuddered deep inside her. His back arched up off the ground. He wanted to close his eyes but he couldn't. He just kept staring at her, watching her eyes ignite as her own release overtook her.

In the aftermath, for one brief, glorious second, his limbs filled with lead and his head with haze. He was with Eve, laying in darkness, growing soft inside her, letting sleep claim him. But then his eyes refocused and the dream faded to reality. Delilah peered down at him.

Adam pushed her off of him. "Back to your room," he said. His voice was flat. Delilah stared at him, as if to ask why but he didn't give her the chance. "Go!" he yelled, anger flaring. He picked up a nearby fallen book and flung it at her legs. She scurried off, confusion and hurt apparent in her features. Fuck her. Fuck everything.

"Now that wasn't very nice, was it?" Eve's tired voice said from the screen. She was retying her kaftan. With the stunt Delilah had pulled, he'd forgotten Eve was still there. The girl was fucking dangerous.

"You're going to hate me for this. I'll be the fucking asshole by the time this is all over," he said. He tried to call back the anger but it was already gone, replaced with his characteristic melancholy. He pulled his pants back on. How did everything get so fucked up?

"Hate you for giving me the family I've always wanted? I think not," Eve replied.

Adam looked at her and swallowed hard. God, he loved her. "Will you come home?" He asked, suddenly. It sounded pathetic, he knew it did. He didn't care. "I need you." He really did. Now, more than ever.

Eve smiled. "Of course, love."

Adam managed a smile in return, the kind of smile that never reached the eyes and alluded to a lifetime of sadness. "I love you," he finally said.

"I love you too. See you soon." Eve went for the off button but paused. "And Adam?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you," she said and her eyes spoke the sentiment even louder than her words. The screen faded to distorted gray static. An emptiness settled in the pit of his stomach. He missed her already.

Adam stood. He went to the corner that sported a large collection of his instruments. He didn't pick one up, though his fingers ached for strings. Instead, he opened a small wooden box sitting atop a pile of aged sheet music and pulled out the revolver. He curled a finger around the trigger, finding a morbid comfort in the gesture. Soon Eve would be home. And then it would be Delilah, Adam, and Eve. He wasn't sure what to expect but every possible outcome ended with him pulling the trigger.


End file.
